Art of Discovery
by Oldach's Dream
Summary: Chase finds House and Wilson in somewhat of a compromising position. HxW Slash, but nothing really graphic. Oneshot.


_By: Oldach's Dream_

_Summary: Chase finds House and Wilson in somewhat of a compromising position. HxW Slash, but nothing really graphic. Oneshot. _

_Timeline: Early season three? It really doesn't make too much of a difference. Also- this is in no way connected to any of my other stories._

_Disclaimer If they were mine, the Tritter arc would have ended with them killing Detective Tritter and then hanging him upside down like Mussolini. _

o0oo0o

Art of Discovery

It wasn't something they did all the time – just something they did to pass the time.

It wasn't something they gave any meaning to – just something they did when their lives were lacking meaning.

It wasn't something they did for fun – just something they did when they felt there wasn't enough fun happening around them.

It wasn't something they did when they were drunk – at least, not always.

And it wasn't something they'd ever wanted anyone else to find out about – just something they obviously hadn't been trying to hide.

Maybe it was a subconscious impulse that had stopped James Wilson from locking the door that evening. After all, he always locked the door.

Or maybe it was something more complicated than that – something akin to fate or destiny.

Bad luck also had to be tossed in for good measure – because this was something they'd never planned on, discussed, or even considered might happen.

Of course, when they did this, there was never planning, logical discussion or considerations – at least, not for the outside world.

So on that snowy winter night when Robert Chase knocked on House's apartment door, then knocked again and again before trying the knob and finding that it was open – neither House nor Wilson had been prepared.

o0oo0o

Chase figured there had to be some invisible aura around him that just screamed _pushover. _Because when it came down to it, that's what nearly everyone saw him as – one giant pushover.

He knew he brought it on himself – he'd been raised in a high society world with an alcoholic mother. And in that world, if you were quiet, polite and if you agreed with what everyone around you was saying, they tended to stay out of your personal life.

And that's all Chase had ever wanted as a kid – to keep people away from his private life. Away from his mother.

It was a series of bad habits, more than anything else, which had kept that behavior going after he'd moved to the United States and finally began to consider himself an adult.

So when Foreman and Cameron had badgered him into going to House's apartment that night – after many failed attempts to reach him on his home and cell phone – he'd caved. Just like his co-workers had known he would.

"Don't worry," Foreman had patted him on the back, snickering all the while, "Cameron's going to check out bars and I'm going to the OTB parlor."

Chase had glared. "Switch those two around and you got a deal."

"What?" The black man had crinkled his brow in sudden confusion.

"Bars and hot brunettes," Chase had pointed out, feeling protective. "She's less likely to get hassled at the OTB parlor."

"Fine," Foreman had shrugged, and Chase had left feeling as though he'd done at least one good deed that night.

Though he knew that would get cancelled out dramatically if their patient ended up dying – like she was on the brink of doing. This was why they needed House.

That was the only reason he'd agreed to this insane plan.

"Normal people don't have to play hide and go seek with their boss." He'd grumbled to himself all the way out of the hospital, through the parking lot and on the ride to House's apartment.

All he was thinking, at the time, was that if House managed to figure this out in less than two minutes, they'd never hear the end of it.

o0oo0o

Wilson was on top of House. They were positioned horizontally on his couch. Both men were sans shirts and Wilson's belt buckle was undone.

While in the midst of their passionate endeavors – one of the many that weren't engaged in all that often, didn't hold much meaning, almost never happened when not drunk, and were never planned out or discussed – they hadn't heard the knock at the door.

Or the one that followed.

Or the one that followed that.

They hadn't heard the door being slowly pushed open.

They'd been too caught up in the thing they did that they never talked about, the one that held some, little or no meaning – depending on who you asked and when you asked them.

They hadn't heard Chase say in a tentive voice, "House?"

They had, however, heard his sputtered, choked cough and exclamation of, "Oh my God."

Wilson's head snapped up at the same time he reared back in shock. The combination of the two motions had him toppling, in not such a graceful manner, to the floor just a moment after their interruption.

His clumsy move had inadvertently led to his knee knocking into House's bad leg uncomfortably. The older man had grunted painfully – from more than just pain – before propping himself up on his elbows just enough to see Chase's gaping expression.

"Fan-fucking-tastic." He muttered to himself, before letting his head fall back down again.

Now he had two very pressing matters that required his attention.

Wilson, out of pure self-preservation, stayed on the floor where he'd landed.

"Well," House propped himself up again and glared at Chase. "Can I help you with something?"

o0oo0o

"Thanks for the phone call." Foreman began angrily as he stormed back into the Diagnostic office, Cameron following close behind. Both were pulling off hats, gloves, scarves and coats.

Chase could barely see them. "Sorry," he muttered absently.

"Cuddy called us, Chase." Cameron snapped, removing the last of her winter apparel and flopping down in a chair. "In case you were wondering."

"Right," he said distractedly. "Cuddy. She okayed the treatment."

"We _know_!" Foreman all but bellowed, striding over to the coffee maker and preparing a fresh pot. "So either you found House or you figured it out all on your own."

House lying beneath Wilson. The two men groping at each other, pressed together like they weren't really two beings at all. Staring into one another's eyes, seemingly lost in that gaze. The rest of the world might as well not have existed.

"Chase!" Cameron's snappish tone brought him back to where he was.

"I…I found House." His hands were shaking; he'd flipped through the same file at least two dozen times in the past ten minutes. He had yet to take in a word of it. "He…he figured it out pretty fast. He was kinda pissed I…"

Interrupted him.

"Bothered him?" Foreman guessed, laughing bitterly. "Yeah well, if we were all as brilliant as him we wouldn't have needed this fellowship, now would we?"

Cameron laughed, and it seemed most of their annoyance with him was gone now that they were warm. "I think that's the first time I've ever heard you compliment him."

Foreman scowled. "The man's a genius; no one in their right mind can deny that."

"Very logical of you." Cameron teased, and Chase wondered how he could be keeping up with their conversation at all.

House and Wilson. Wilson and House. They'd seemed very practiced in their movements. It wasn't the first time, the younger man was sure, and that they'd done that.

Chase wondered of they were really in a relationship. He wondered if either of the two older men even had the capability of maintaining a relationship that wasn't doomed to fail.

The tales of Wilson's divorces and short-term girlfriends were legendary – especially when you got to work early and House was feeling chatty.

And the only relationship that Chase had ever witnessed House in was his one with Stacy – the married ex-girlfriend – and they'd all known from the start that that wouldn't last.

Even if she had left her husband.

He figured all his boss's glib remarks about hookers didn't count.

He would put money, however, on the bet about House and Cuddy having hooked up at one point in the past.

Though he doubted past relationships – if it had even been that complex – counted either.

He'd never thought about House being gay.

Of course he'd heard the rumors about him and Wilson. He'd heard them the first time he'd ever come here – before he was hired, before he'd even met House. He never gave rumors – of any kind – that much foundation, and after meeting House, he'd dismissed the gay theory at once.

Because – other than his obsession with shoes and soap operas – Greg House was probably the least flamboyant person he'd ever met.

Except perhaps Foreman.

Who was now, as it happened, staring at him somewhat expectantly.

"Huh?" He managed to clear his thoughts enough to realize both his colleagues were looking at him. It seemed he hadn't been able to keep up with their conversation after all.

"She asked if you were alright." Foreman said, "And now that she said something… you are looking kind of pale."

"I'm fine." His hands were still shaking – he literally couldn't believe what he'd just seen. He was still trying – very hard – to work through it internally.

"Maybe you should go home." Cameron reached an arm out and squeezed his wrist gently. "You've been here longer than both of us; we can take care of the patient from here."

Chase wasn't sure if he wanted to go home – but he _was_ sure that their inquisitive stares were getting to be a bit too invasive.

He sighed and nodded. "Right. Yeah. Okay."

"Okay," Cameron repeated somewhat worriedly and Chase turned around and walked to the glass doors separating his office from the hallway.

"Ah…Chase?" Foreman called as his hand was on the knob. The Australian man turned and looked back.

"What?"

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Cameron asked gently, nodding purposely towards the chart still clenched in his hand.

"Right, sorry." He mumbled as he walked back over and tossed the patient file back on the conference table.

He was a few steps away from the door when Foreman spoke again. "Coat? Gloves? It's freezing outside."

"Below freezing," Cameron added as the blonde man turned around _again _and walked to the coat rack.

"Right, sorry." He parroted his words from not ten seconds ago, before tugging on his outerwear while simultaneously making his way out the door.

This time, no one called him back. He just felt their stares follow him until he was out of sight.

o0oo0o

"Well…that was uncomfortable." Wilson pointed out dejectedly from where he was, still spread out on the living room floor, hands resting on his bare chest.

"Chicken." House griped, letting his upper half fall back against the pillow again. "You could have helped me out there."

"I…didn't really have much to add." Wilson closed his eyes and tried not to smirk. "It was your case."

"You're an ass." The older man groaned. "You know what's more uncomfortable than discussing a case with an employee who just walked in on you and your _male _bestfriend groping like teenagers?"

"Um…" Wilson actually considered that. "Nothing, I would imagine."

House let a low-pitched noise, almost a growl, emulate from deep within his chest. "Doing it with a hard-on."

The Oncologist barked his laughter and slowly, with great ease, sat up, stood up, and then cautiously lowered himself back on top of House. He was nuzzling his neck affectionately, placing chaste kisses up and down the stubble.

"Well," his own voice was deep now, as well. All hints of laughter had vanished. "Let's see if we can't do something about that."

It dawned on both men that this was the first time they'd ever talked about what they did while they weren't in the process of doing it.

It added a new variable to their sporadic relationship.

o0oo0o

"Chase," they had finished a differential, been berated by their boss a least a dozen times and then ordered to perform various tasks before House had finally spoken to just him. "I want to talk to you." He nodded towards his office and limped through the door without preamble.

"What'd you do?" Foreman inquired with a self-satisfied smirk as Cameron simply rolled her eyes and walked out the door.

Chase shrugged at Foreman and watched as he too left the office.

Chase had been waiting for this. He'd known that House wouldn't simply leave it alone, pretend as though nothing had happened. It wasn't in the older man's nature.

And, quite frankly, it wasn't in Chase's either.

So as he made his way into House's personal office he couldn't help but feel – underneath the nerves and fear – at least a little relived. He really didn't like unresolved issues.

"Sit down." House gestured to the chair across from his desk when Chase entered the room. The Diagnostician was sitting in his own chair, tapping his cane on the ground beside him impatiently.

Chase complied and swallowed thickly.

House wasted no time with pleasantries or meaningless segue conversations. "You didn't tell them."

It was a blunt statement and one that Chase hadn't been expecting, so it took him a moment to catch up. "Cameron and Foreman? No, I didn't."

House nodded and briefly blew air into his cheeks and tossed it back in forth in that way he did sometimes when contemplating something. "Are you going to?"

Chase hadn't been expecting to be asked a question, to be given any sort of leverage. Though he supposed, just by what he'd seen and the obvious fact that House hadn't wanted him to see it, that he had some.

That didn't necessarily mean that he wanted any. "No."

He'd thought long and hard about this the night before. And while the idea of having continual blackmail over his boss had been extraordinarily tempting – he knew he would never be able to go through with actually using it.

He was a moral person – almost as much as he was a pushover. And he'd figured, while tossing and turning all last night, that the only way he'd use this information to his benefit, would be if House tried to fire him.

After all, the fact that he hadn't locked his door wasn't Chase's fault.

So he answered. "No. I'm not."

House sighed, and for a moment when he looked at him, his boss seemed older than he normally did. More worn. "For now, right?"

Chase sighed and sigh of his own. God, this man was jaded. "What I walked into last night – whatever it was – it's none of my business. You and Dr. Wilson…"

Those words sounded odd just coming out.

He'd considered it more last night and he still hadn't been able to completely work it out. House and Wilson were closer than most average friends, but not so much so that he'd ever thought to label them as _gay _or _in a relationship. _

He always figured it had more to do with the infarction. What House had to have suffered immediately following the surgery and Wilson's instinctual need to take care of people – Chase thought that those two variables must have blended to create what the rest of the world saw now.

He shouldn't have been that surprised that something like that could mutate into something more complicated. But he was. Or at least, he had been.

The more he thought about it, the more it almost made sense.

"We're not…" and for the first time since Chase had been working for him, it seemed as if House was having a hard time getting words out. "What you walked in on last night…that's not something we do…often. It's just something we do."

Chase held up his hands. "You don't have to explain it to me."

"No," House let out a deep breath. "I guess I don't."

A wave of silence all but consumed them before Chase cracked and broke it. "I'm not going to tell anyone." He assured. "I'll just…pretend it never happened."

House nodded again, something unreadable dancing in his eyes. "You do that."

Chase nodded again, as well, so many times that he started to get dizzy. So he stopped. He felt like he should say something more, but he didn't know if it'd be overstepping his bounds.

Then he remembered what exactly he'd seen the night before, and figured any and all bounds that might have existed were now blurry, if not downright wiped out.

"It doesn't bother me, you know." He spoke quickly, keeping his gaze fixed steadily to a spot on the wall. "Whatever you and Dr. Wilson have…or do. It doesn't bother me at all. Not that it would matter if it did, it's your life. I just wanted you to know. Not that you need…or want my opinion, I just thought, I mean, I've been thinking about it and I really just…It doesn't make a difference. You're still a great doctor. Dr. Wilson is still a good guy, it doesn't matter that you two…well, it just doesn't make a difference."

"Yeah," House's voice held amusement, but the younger man still couldn't bring himself to look at his face. "I got that the first seven times you said it."

Chase let out a deep breath and dared to meet his boss's gaze again. Those great blue eyes held nothing but subtle entertainment and a certain amount of relief.

"So…" Chase used a hand to gesture between them. "We're good?"

House just rolled his eyes and used his cane to point towards the door. "Just go get the damn blood tests, already."

Chase walked out of the office smiling, completely at ease for the first time in over twenty-four hours.

He knew they were just fine.

END.

_A/N: I have no idea where this came from or why, but your thoughts would be most welcome!_


End file.
